


Seeking Vengeance and Other Means of Comforting Your Younger Brother

by animehime20



Category: Thor (2011), Thor: Tales of Asgard
Genre: Because Thor and Loki Have No Idea About the Truth, Blaming Oneself, Comfort, Insecurity About Feelings, M/M, Mourning, Pseudo-Incest, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehime20/pseuds/animehime20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Tales of Asgard. Loki’s separated himself from his family after what happened with Surtur’s sword and Algrim’s death, blaming himself for everything. Thor’s had enough and just wants his brother to talk to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blaming Oneself and Seeking Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Tales of Asgard_. Thor is roughly sixteen or seventeen, and Loki is either fifteen or sixteen. As in the movie, they are still unaware that they aren't related.
> 
> I do not own _Thor_ or _Thor: Tales of Asgard_. They belong to Marvel, Lionsgate, and Stan Lee. I am just a fan looking to post fan fictions and show my support for the series and all it stands for.

" _No, I sought vengeance. Thor, I am convinced that, in Algrim's place, I would have acted no differently_.” — Loki [ _Tales of Asgard_ ]

 

**~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~**

 

“Loki,” Thor called.

It had taken him a few tries to find where his brother was—he had so many places he liked to hide when he was upset: Seid Tower, the library, the Observatory, and his room—but the loud bellow of “Gods, go away!” that emanated from behind his brother’s bedroom door convinced him that he had finally found his hiding spot this time.

“Loki, let me in,” he said.

There was a muffled thump, and the door reverberated slightly. He knew Loki had thrown some object at the door—a boot perhaps, because he knew that no matter how mad Loki got he would never throw a book.

His little brother’s vicious voice wafted through the closed door. “I don’t want to talk to you and your _girlfriend_. I don’t want to talk to you or Mother. I don’t want to talk to _anyone_. Leave me alone, Thor!”

“Sif’s not here,” Thor answered. “And I’m not going away until you talk to me.”

“Fandral!” Loki yelled. “Hogun, Volstagg! Make him go _away!_ ”

“They’re not here either, brother,” he responded, feeling slightly hurt that his brother was going to such lengths to try and get rid of him. “It’s just me.”

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Loki spoke again; his voice came from much nearer, as if he were standing just on the other side of the door. “You’re alone?”

“I am,” said Thor.

The heavy door cracked open. Loki was standing there in an oversized tunic, his hair tousled and tangled around his chin. Thor hadn’t really ever seen his little brother like this: unkempt, circles like black bruises under his eyes, with his hair untamed. It just wasn’t like Loki to look like, for lack of a better description, a penniless commoner.

Loki stared at him for a moment, taking in the fact that he was indeed alone, then exhaled through his nose. “You can come in.”

Thor stepped past him into the room. In the light from the halls he could see that it looked like, as their mother would’ve said, a tornado had struck it. Tunics and cloaks were scattered across the floor in messy piles. Piles of papers with runes written on the surface were mounded in piles on the desk as if they’d exploded. Loki’s gauntlets were hung on the wall beside the mount where he kept his armor and cloak—both now on the floor as if he’d tossed it aside instead of hung them up when he changed. The blankets on his bed were torn aside and half-spilled on the floor, and three spell books from his bookshelf were on the end of the bed. The curtains over the gigantic windows were drawn, the torches low.

Loki bolted the door and flopped down on the edge of the bed; he looked at his brother with bitter amusement. “So…I let you in. Now what do you want?”

Despite his angry look, Thor thought he looked younger than usual, his eyes huge and green in his snow-white face. He could see the tiny scars tracing his bare arms and legs from years of magic sparring practice.

Loki had something in his hands, something he was turning over and over in his fingertips. Thor thought for a moment, by the way it glinted in the dim light, that it was a piece of jewelry or a tiny gemstone. He wondered if it was a gift from Amora, or maybe from their parents for one of his early birthdays.

“What happened to Algrim,” Thor said. “It’s not your fault.”

This had been their issue for the past few days. Loki still blamed himself. He still secluded himself from his friends and family, locking himself in his room or hiding himself away in the libraries or the towers, seeking no one and nothing for comfort.

Loki didn’t look at him. He was staring down at the object in his hands. “Do you know what this is, brother?” he asked, and held it up.

It appeared to be a small toy soldier, carved out of a piece of black marble. It was a toy Dark Elf, Thor realized, complete with a dull metal sword. So that was what the glinting was. It looked so worn down and different now, but Thor recognized it immediately. He wondered how he ever could’ve forgotten.

“It was yours,” Loki said, not waiting for him to answer. “It was your present from Algrim on your sixth birthday. It was the only toy Algrim brought with him from Svartalheim. I don’t know, it must have belonged to one of his children and been part of a larger set at one point. I think he said it was part of a chess set, but I’m not sure. Algrim never said much about it when he gave it to you. You carried it around everywhere you went, always in one of your pockets or wherever you could put it. Then on _my_ sixth birthday you gave it to me. Said it was going to protect me when you or Algrim weren’t around. You loved this little thing, and you gave it to me. It was special to you, so special, a gift from your friend, and you—you gave it to—”

He broke off. The effort he was making to not cry was visible; his mouth was set in a vicious sort of grimace, as if it were twisting itself out of shape.

“He was one of your best friends. Practically family. And I _killed_ him. All that’s left of him is some stupid little marble chess piece.” Loki flung it down onto the bed, his emerald eyes shimmering like chips of solidified poison.

“You were scared,” Thor protested. “He nearly killed Father, Loki. He nearly destroyed Asgard. It’s not your fault. You did what you had to in order to protect us!”

Loki shook his head, his dark hair bouncing around his chin. He looked fierce. “I did what I did out of vengeance!” he snarled. “Don’t you understand that? There was no sense of protecting myself, my home, or even my brother! I saw what Algrim had done to our father and I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill him. At the time I didn’t regret a thing! And do you know that even _now_ I’m not sure if I regret it or not?”

“Stop that,” Thor demanded. “You’re speaking nonsense. You’re acting as if you’re some kind of madman, and you aren’t. You’re my little brother and you were scared. Everyone has their faults, Loki.”

“Not everyone kills on a whim,” Loki growled. “For no reason.”

“You _had_ a reason!” He didn’t know what else to say, but he wasn’t going to lose this argument, not as long as Loki thought he was a monster. “He hurt our father—nearly killed him! Anyone in the Nine Realms would’ve acted the same if their family was threatened! If anyone deserves any blame for this, it’s me!”

Loki didn’t look surprised that Thor had blamed himself. “How?” he asked. “You’re not the one who killed him.”

“No. But I killed two Frost Giant Sentries.”

“Huh. Yeah, like _that’s_ so terrible. Frost Giants. Win some, lose some. Same difference.”

Thor didn’t like the cynical tone of voice Loki had taken on, and he didn’t like how he was talking about other sentient beings. But then he recalled that he himself had once been the same way; he couldn’t blame Loki for his feelings, nor did he want to.

“Look, Loki.” Thor took a step forward. He was, oddly, suddenly very conscious of the fact that his little brother wasn’t very dressed; he refrained from setting his hand on his shoulder or doing any other sort of comforting gesture that required touch. It felt wrong, staring down at his brother, and he wondered why. He’d seen Loki half-dressed before, so why did it bother him now? “When my dog Liulfr died, I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I still kept blaming myself. You remember; I just kept thinking of the things I never did and the things I should’ve done and the things I wished that I did with him and how sorry I was that I hadn’t.”

“Well, there’s a _big_ difference between Liulfr and Algrim’s deaths,” Loki said. “One, Liulfr died in a fight with another wolf, an honorable way for their kind to go. And two, you didn’t _kill_ Liulfr, and you weren’t there when it happened. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“And there was nothing else you could’ve done,” Thor argued.

“I could’ve kept my head on straight,” was all Loki said.

He exhaled, exhausted. He was never any good at arguing with Loki for very long. His brother was always better at mental processing; if this were a fist-fight, Thor would’ve won ages ago.

Loki raised his chin and looked at him. “Come over here.”

“Wha—what?”

He beckoned imploringly with his index finger. “Come _here_ , brother.”

Reluctantly Thor came toward him. He was less than a foot away when Loki hopped up, seized him by the front of his tunic, and jerked him forward with surprising strength. Their faces were just a few inches apart. Thor could see the remnants of tearstains just below his eyelids: streaks of dark color making the green of his irises shine.

“Do you know what I _really_ need right now, brother of mine?” Loki asked, enunciating each word carefully.

Thor felt his face flush several shades darker. “Uh…” His breath caught in his throat.

“A distraction,” Loki responded, and with a half-turn he flipped his brother around and shoved him onto the bed.

Thor landed on his back, pinned down beneath his little brother. “Loki,” he protested weakly. He tried to move his arms to gently move his brother off him, but found that he was unable to. This set his anxiety levels through the gilded ceiling. “B-brother,” Thor stammered, “t-this isn’t going to make you f-feel any better!”

“How can you know that?” He stared down at his older brother with a bemused expression, like a predator watching its prey attempt to flee when it knew there was no escape.

Thor was at a loss for words. This wasn’t new, but certainly new for this type of situation. His little brother had never pinned him to a bed before and looked at him…like the warriors returning from war looked at their maidens.

Thor protested, “Loki—”

“Shut up, Thor,” Loki said, placing a hand on his chest, just over his heart, leaning down so their faces were inches apart—Loki’s sultry grin hovering above Thor’s scarlet blush. “I do what I want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued...


	2. Insecurity and Thinking Clearly

" _Who of us knows what we're capable of when family is threatened?_ " — Thor [ _Thor: Tales of Asgard_ ]

 

**~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~**

 

This was insane, out of control.

That was the only way Thor could describe it; everything about this situation was strange, insane, out of control.

He didn't know what had brought this on. Loki had been distant for a while since Algrim's death, and Thor had been beginning to worry. His father insisted that Loki would be all right after a little while, but he had his doubts. His brother would always talk to him whenever something bothered him, and now—now he spent all of his time hiding and avoiding any contact.

Before all this, he and Loki had been close. Sometimes Asgardians looked at them strangely, as if two brothers weren't meant to be this close. Thor brushed it off as petty jealousy.

Except now he found himself pinned to his little brother's bed. Loki hovered above him, gripping his wrists and keeping him secured, and Thor was unable to remove him. Normally he could've just jolted his wrists and sent Loki flying—his brother never had been able to best him when it came to brute strength. But now Loki's small hands gripped him with the strength of metal vises, and Thor wasn't going anywhere unless Loki willed it.

He was painfully aware of his brother's miniscule amount of clothing; he wore only a single green tunic and perhaps a pair of undergarments. He had no way of knowing. And he was painfully conscious of how close his brother's face was to his own.

"Loki—" he tried.

"Shut up," his little brother growled. It wasn't an angry sound this time. It was almost—seductive?

Thor felt the color on his face brighten several shades. _Oh gods of Eternal Asgard_. This wasn't right! They...they were _brothers_ , for Odin's sake! And yet Loki kept leaning toward him, hovering mere inches above his elder brother.

"You're a good distraction," Loki murmured slowly, almost as if he were drugged. "A very, very good distraction..."

If it were possible for him to be even more embarrassed, he did. Thor tried to turn his face away from his brother, since he couldn't move any other part of his body. It didn't really do much, and it certainly didn't help when Loki leaned down. Thor jumped when he felt his brother brush his lips over his cheek, light as the feathers on their father's ravens—Huginn and Munnin. It set his blood on fire, lightning and static dancing through him.

This was wrong! Wrong, wrong _wrong!_

Except that the second Loki's lips touched his cheek, Thor forgot everything about "wrong". He cast off all concerns and let himself get caught in the heat of the moment. He was shocked by how normal it felt. There were no more nervous feelings, no doubts lingering in the back of his mind. The voice that had once screamed, "you're brothers" was now silent.

This was insane.

This was reckless.

This was so wonderfully _intoxicating_.

"You have no idea," Loki whispered against his cheek, "how hard it is—seeing you with Sif. You've got no idea how much that hurts me—seeing you with your arms around her, seeing her kiss you like she does...it's not fair..."

Thor's breath caught. Loki was still looking down at him, but his expression had changed—there was a look on his face Thor'd never seen before: a sleepy, deadly, almost predatory light in his poisonous green eyes. He was suddenly and acutely conscious of the hard pressure of his little brother's body on his own, the bones of their hips fitting perfectly together, and Thor ached everywhere that he didn't touch Loki, ached with a nearly physical pain.

 _You have no idea how hard it is seeing you with Sif_ , he had said.

 _Well_ , Thor thought, _you have no idea how hard it is seeing you with Amora_.

Whenever Loki was with his instructor, Thor was often jealous. He was jealous of Amora, who'd occupied most of his brother's time. He was envious of the girl who trained his brother, and he'd often thought that if he were as skilled as Loki in magic, perhaps they could teach each other and never be separated.

He heard Loki inhale sharply above him, and he saw his brother's eyes darken. He didn't move for a moment.

"Loki?" Thor asked.

"I'm not giving you to her," Loki said. The light in his eyes was a burning blaze. Slowly he inclined his head until his lips were next to his elder brother's ear. When he spoke, Thor felt his breath on his throat and it made him shiver. "Not now, not ever. She can pry you from my cold, dead hands if she wants you so bad..."

Thor said nothing. Even if he could've gathered his scattered thoughts to compose the words, he didn't want to tell Loki to stop. He was tired of hiding it—of never letting himself feel exactly what he wanted to feel.

 _Desire is not always lessened by disgust_ , his mother Frigga had told him once when he was little and had asked her about these strange urges he had.

So what if they were brothers? There were times when they didn't feel like they were. Thor didn't know if they were truly related—;he sometimes joked with his parents about it, but they answered him with stunned silence or brushed it off—but if they were, wouldn't this be seen as sick? They'd be disgusted by these desires...not endorsing them.

He was tired of treating Loki like his brother. If they were related, fine. Then they'd be thrown out of Asgard, and they could live together without being pestered. And if they weren't, then there was no issue. It was a win-win situation either way.

 _Besides_ , Thor thought lazily, _Loki doesn't look like any of us...we can't be..._

There was a moment of silence—not complete, as Thor heard their breathing—and then he felt his brother kiss him.

At first the pressure of his lips was gentle, seeking; but when Thor responded instantly—tilting his head back to answer Loki's desire—he felt the cautious tension in his body change to something else.

Suddenly Loki was kissing him with a bruising pressure Thor never knew he was capable of, his lips crushing his own.

Thor made a stifled noise: their kiss was frenzied now, almost clumsy in its fever—so unlike Loki, who never seemed to rush, or to hurry anything. He could feel the heat of him, burning through their tunics; Loki's bare legs wrapped around him, keeping him pinned to the bed. Thor wanted more of Loki's touch, wanted to be free of the vise-grip he had so that he could put his hands on him, and he wanted for there to be no more space between them. Forget if Odin thought it was wrong; forget if Asgard thought it was wrong. There was nothing but him and Loki now, and that was enough.

And then, just like that, he tasted it. That strange, sweet taste he recognized. Sticky and sour in the edges...intoxicating...

Thor drew back with an exclamation of surprise. "Loki!" He stared at him in shock. Cold flooded his veins.

Loki raised himself up on his elbows and looked down at him. "What...?" His voice was slow, as if he were half-asleep. "Did I hurt you or...something?"

Now Thor saw it. Because his brother had been so distraught before he hadn't noticed. That was why he looked so disheveled, why there were circles under his eyes. Loki had done a good job of keeping himself sober up until this had begun...but now that his moment of sorrow was over, he could allow himself to surrender to it...

"No, Loki, that's...that's not it. You..." He shook his head, trying to understand. "You're drunk."

"I am not drunk. I am perfectly sober." He went back down to kiss Thor, but he shook his head and made Loki pause. "Thor?"

"Get off me, Loki," Thor said.

"Huh?" The desire cracked from Loki's eyes, like the shattering of a glass mirror. He did as his brother commanded and let him go. He climbed off him and settled himself onto the bed next to him, watching silently as Thor sat up. "I don't suppose you...are going to tell me why." He tried to keep his voice steady.

 _Perhaps he isn't completely drunk_ , Thor thought. But he was tipsy enough to let his judgment be clouded.

"We have to stop this before it gets out of hand," he said.

"Out of hand?" Loki glared at him. "What do you mean 'out of hand'?"

"You know what I mean." Thor stood up and looked down at his little brother. He tried to keep the disappointment off his face, tried to appear like the wise elder brother he was. "You're not in your right mind, Loki. And I'm not going to allow you to make a mistake and wind up doing something you'll regret later."

He stared at Thor with an beamused look. "You think I did this because I was drinking? Oh, Thor, you really are an idiot."

"Loki, these aren't your true feelings," Thor said.

"And how do you know that?" His tone had gone from bemused to enraged. "When was the last time you and I spent any time together other than now? These past few months you've spent all your time with Sif and the Warriors and you've been completely ignoring me! The only time you ever came to talk to me was to recruit me for that stupid mission to get Elderstahl! So how dare you tell me these aren't my true feelings! You don't know anything about me, Thor!"

His words hurt, but he didn't want Loki to see him like this. He closed his eyes and said, "Loki. I am sorry I haven't come to talk with you recently. But I promise, as soon as you sober up, we'll talk about this. I'll come in and we'll spend some time together...and we'll discuss this when you can think straight." He paused, then added, "When we _both_ can think straight."

Loki didn't look too thrilled with that; but there was obviously no other choice, so he exhaled and said, "All right, brother."

"Good. Get some rest for now." He turned away and headed for the door. "I'll come see you in the morning, Loki. Until then...just remember, what happened is not your fault. You aren't evil, and you aren't a murderer."

Loki lowered his head. "I guess..."

Thor wasn't happy with that answer, but he let it go. "Good night, brother."

Just before he left, Loki crawled under the covers and said, "Thor? Just to let you know—this was not a result of the ale. These are my true feelings. They won't vanish in the morning. Good night, Thor."

Then he rolled over and fell asleep.

Thor closed the door behind him and meandered down the hallway. He thought back to what had happened in the bedroom a few moments ago, thought of Loki's lips on his own, and the last words he'd said to him.

_These are my true feelings. They won't vanish in the morning._

"Mine won't either," Thor said to himself. "Mine won't either." Then he closed his eyes and went to find the Warriors Three and Sif. Now he was the one who needed a distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued...


End file.
